Home » FET#3 » We Will Now Talk to Each Other in Tones

We Will Now Talk to Each Other in Tones

It’s a really strange feeling waiting for something awful to happen to you. I imagine it’s what clinical paranoia feels like. Knowing, with certainty, that something terrible is in the wind.

That is how I feel right now.

I’ve chosen to miscarry naturally at home.

I have no idea when it will begin, or how long it will last, but I plan to accept each cramp and contraction, acknowledge each piece of expelled tissue, and trust in my body’s innate ability to clean the slate. It will be part of my grieving of this pregnancy, which I believe, hasn’t truly started yet. I’m choosing to see this not as a carriage gone amiss, but rather as the privilege to experience pregnancy for the first time. A sneak peak. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to give my body the time to do this, to do this at home, and to still have one more embryo left.

Something really beautiful and unexpected happened today. I was driving to the grocery store, listening to CBC radio when I heard a nice narrative about Beethoven. Beethoven had a friend who had suffered a miscarriage, and was emotionally distraught. As she was a dear friend, he wanted to console her, but did so in the only way that he knew how- through music. He pulled her in close, and said “Now we will talk to each other in tones”. He then improvised a beautiful piece now known as his Sonata No. 28.

I sat in the car, parked, with the ignition in second position, and revelled in the beautifully somber melody. I thought of our own little spark and how beautiful it would be to set her free through such a melody.

When I got home, I googled the song, and found this sheet music from a Wikipedia article:

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My jaw dropped when I read the dedication, “To my friend Dorothea…”, as that is also my name.

Have a listen.

This was meant for me.

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11 thoughts on “We Will Now Talk to Each Other in Tones

  1. Wow is all I can say, what a beautiful experience. I believe synchronicity happens especially when you need it most. I didn’t know that about Beethoven. Stay strong; we’re virtually here for you.

  2. This is just amazing – I am so glad that you heard that radio story. What a sweet man and surprising to me that he even knew about his friend’s miscarriage back in 1816!
    I’m happy that you found a decision you could find peace in.
    If you have an angry day or a miserable day when you want to seek solace in someone else who has felt those same things – then check out my page of (probably bad but heartfelt) poems I wrote on our first baby’s due date. http://pepibebe.wordpress.com/poems/baby-loss-poems/
    Kia kaha – have strength.

  3. Isn’t it weird how that happens sometimes? You hear and see things just when you need to. This is beautiful , and I especially love this bit- “I’m choosing to see this not as a carriage gone amiss, but rather as the privilege to experience pregnancy for the first time. A sneak peak.” To be able to see the silver lining in something that can be so devastating, tragic and even traumatic is a reflection of the beautiful person that I have grown to know through this blog. Thank you for reminding me that even in the worst things that life has to offer, i can find something beautiful.

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